


Where Angels Fly

by dragonfly_moonlight



Series: Events That Change Our Lives [1]
Category: Mach GoGoGo | Speed Racer
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen, Life and Death situations, Romance, adult situations and themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonfly_moonlight/pseuds/dragonfly_moonlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is all about growing up, maturing, and changes. Not all changes are for the better. Decisions are made that affect the entire Go Team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reckless Anger and Dark Awakenings

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Speed Racer, and I do not profit financially from writing this story. The real profit comes from writing a story that pleases me and makes me happy to share with others.

_"Okay, Speed. One more lap and we can call it a day,"_ Pops stated. _"And don't forget, you have a date with your mother as soon as you're done. Make sure you're presentable. Got that? The last thing I want is for your mother to be embarrassed to be seen with you in public."_

"Roger that and like I'd ever let that happen," the dark-haired youth replied then put the receiver back. Pressing the accelerator to the floor, Speed whizzed by his father and his best friend, waving to both of them as he went by. With the ease from many years of practice, he went into Turn One of the racetrack and continued on, accelerating where he needed to and taking each turn smooth and gracefully. Five minutes later, the Mach 5 was in park and he was climbing out. Pops handed him a towel as he approached.

"That was a good run," the older man said appraisingly. "Best time yet."

"Thanks," Speed smiled, wiping the sweat from his face. "Car's running a bit loose, though. It was getting harder to turn at the end. I felt it could have done better."

"We'll take a look at it and get it ready for this Sunday's race," came the promise. Pops started to say something else then hesitated. "Speed . . ."

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to be all right?" Pops inquired softly. There was none of the usual bluster or the volcano in his voice that made him Pops. Speed hesitated for a moment as well, knowing to what Pops referred. It had been a few weeks since he had accepted a racing challenge that he had believed had come from the Car Acrobatic team . . . and had learned the true identity of Racer X. It had hurt to have his brother walk away from him for a second time in his short life, like someone taking a knife and stabbing him in the heart. For the second time, he felt abandoned and lost. Then he nodded.

"Yeah. I'll be all right. It isn't like I'm used to having him around _anyway_ . . ."

"Speed . . ."

"I'll be all right," he assured his father. "Really, I am. I'll see you when you get home tonight, okay? I better hurry before Mom thinks I've forgotten all about her. Give Sparky a ride home for me? Please?"

"Sure," Pops nodded then Speed hurried away. He quickly fished an extra set of keys from his pocket and practically ran to his four-door sedan Pops built for him (and the family – it required a key to open the trunk). New rules were in place, both on the track and off. According to the race officials (and Inspector Detector), race cars were no longer allowed to be driven on the streets. It stung, at first, to no longer drive the Mach 5 wherever he wanted, but Speed saw the reason and sense for such rules and laws. Race cars were meant to be driven fast, and a professional driver could forget how quickly his car could travel. A few of the drivers, before the rules and laws were written and announced, had suffered serious injuries from daily driving, even injuring some pedestrians.

Driving a different car also afforded him some anonymity as a celebrity. When he drove the Mach 5 to somewhere as simple as a grocery store, the fans swarmed him, begging for autographs and his attention. While he enjoyed the time with his fans, he felt it should not take him three hours to enter a grocery store. The rules set forth from the race commissioners and the law changed that, and Speed now considered setting up something akin to a meet-and-greet for his fan. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint them. Their cheers drove him forward, inspired him to be the best driver possible, almost as much as his mother inspired him.

The car Pops built for him was nothing much to gaze upon, a simple four-door sedan silver in colour with a nice beige interior. Despite the fact it offered him anonymity for every day driving, Speed felt more than a little silly for driving it. Sedans were family cars, and not necessarily as stylish in apppearace as a sports car. Still, it was what Pops had built for him, and it kept him out of trouble. Not that he broke the speed limit, but there was always that first time. Upon reaching his new car, he climbed inside and started the engine. As fast as he dared, Speed drove home. Since they really did not live too far from the racetrack (perhaps a mile, maybe a mile and a half) and traffic was nearly non-existent, he reached his home in record time. Once there, he quickly showered and changed into a suit of dark blue. His mother had left him a note, stating her sister had picked her up for some coffee and conversation and that she'd meet him at the restaurant.

Speed had just picked the keys up again when the phone rang. For a second or so, he considered not answering. The last thing he wanted was to be late meeting his mother. A small part of him, though, reasoned it could be important . . . like Spritle giving Uncle Henry one hell of a hard time. With a sigh, he picked it up.

"Hello? Racer residence."

 _"Hi, Speed!"_

"Hi, Trixie," he smiled. "What's up?"

 _"Oh, not much,"_ came the coy response. _"I was thinking that you and I could go out tonight. There's a party over at . . ."_

"I can't, Trixie . . . Not tonight." Speed frowned as he spoke. He knew he told Trixie about his plans to have dinner with his mother and when it was going to happen. She had been more than supportive of his decision and even declared he should treat his mother out to dinner more often. What had caused this change?

 _"And why not?"_ she demanded, sounding hurt and upset.

"I've already made plans for tonight," he began. "Maybe tomorrow night we could . . ."

 _"Speed, this party is_ tonight and _tonight only!"_ Trixie exclaimed. _"And it isn't the kind of party you want to pass up, either! There's going to be all sorts of sponsors there and Hollywood producers. This could be huge for the entire team!"_

"I'm sorry, Trixie . . . I can't go. I've already made plans . . ."

 _"Oh. I see."_ Speed felt the icy chill in her tone, and he frowned even more. What had gotten into Trixie? She never sounded this cold when he told her he could not do something before. Then again, she often remembered when he made plans with other people. So long as it did not include other girls . . . He glanced at his watch.

"Listen, I'll talk to you tomorrow, Trixie. I'm going to be late . . ."

 _"Of course,"_ she replied stiffly. _"Have fun."_

Before he could say anything else, she hung up the phone. Speed shook his head then sighed. He wanted to call her back and ask her why she was behaving like a spoiled child, but he decided against it almost immediately. The last thing he wanted was to get into an argument with his girlfriend before meeting his mother for dinner.

'I'll call her later to talk to her. Mom's waiting for me,' he thought as he left the house.

* * *

Trixie let out a frustrated growl as she slammed the phone down. Of all the times for him to have made plans, it had to be tonight. This party was the chance of a lifetime event and she was certain Speed would have leapt at the opportunity to go. She knew Pops and Mom Racer would want him to leap at the opportunity.

"He isn't going to come with us, is he?" Janine inquired. Trixie shook her head, still angry with her beau for turning her offer down.

"No . . . said he had plans for tonight. You'd have thought he would have rescheduled them for this."

"You'd think," the other girl agreed. "But he didn't. Not much we can do about it except go ourselves and have a good time."

"Yeah . . ."

"Come on," Janine stated, smiling a little. "Let's get ready. It can be a girls' night out thing! Wouldn't that be great?"

"I suppose," Trixie frowned. Then she shook her head and smiled. "What am I saying? Of course, it will be."

"And it'll be Speed's loss for not coming with us," Janine winked.

"Right."

As she got ready, though, Trixie couldn't help but feel that there was something she was forgetting about tonight. Something very important. Then she shrugged it off. If she couldn't remember it, obviously it wasn't that important. Her anger at being brushed off by Speed about tonight slowly began to eat away at her, anger that would permeate the events of the night.  


* * *

"Wait right here," Speed told his mother. "I'll go get the car."

It had been a few hours since he'd met her at the restaurant, and it had been one of the best times of his life. They had talked and laughed like they had never done before. It heartened Speed to see his mother laugh and smile and simply enjoy herself. Of course, when he'd informed his parents about Rex, his mother had taken it the hardest. Speed had hated to see the tears on his mother's face, and that's when he'd promised to take her out, just the two of them. He felt compelled to make up for what his brother had done to them, to her. They stayed a little longer than what they should have, but Speed felt that his mother was entitled. She did so much for the family, it bordered on being unbelievable. His mother smiled at him then nodded.

"Okay. Be careful, Speed."

"Mom," he chuckled. "I'm just walking across the street! What could possibly happen?"

"Nothing, if you're careful."

He laughed again and gave her a hug then started to cross the street. Speed dug into his pocket to retrieve his keys, dropping them almost instantly. With a sigh, he knelt down to pick them up. Headlights shining at him and the sound of tires squealing caught his attention, and he looked up just as a car came barreling towards him . . .

* * *

Trixie let out a small moan then rubbed her forehead. She had all the makings of a killer headache and, for the life of her, she couldn't recall why. Pushing herself up, she ventured a glance around then noted, with a growing alarm, that she was not in her apartment. Instead, she was in a tiny room that suspiciously looked like a jail holding cell. Janine was nowhere in sight.

"Oh my god," she moaned. "What happened?"

She quickly got to her feet and made her way to the door. An officer met her there.

"Excuse me, sir," Trixie began, ignoring the dryness of her mouth and the throbbing in her head. "What's happened? Why am I here?"

"You were brought here for detox," he stated coolly. "Drunk driving. You skid out of control after you hit a pedestrian in the walkway."

"I . . . what?" she gulped, her heart beating faster. That couldn't be right. She knew better than to drive drunk. It had been the one thing Speed had made sure no one in his team did, often designating someone to drive.

"You were driving drunk last night, missy, and the car you were driving skid out of control after you hit a pedestrian in the walkway."

"Oh god," she moaned. "No . . . this can't be happening . . ."

"I'm afraid so, miss. The family of the young man you hit has been notified," the officer told her. "It'll be up to them if they wish to press any further charges against you."

"Charges?" Trixie echoed in disbelief.

"Oh yes," he nodded. "You're already facing drunk driving charges and a fine. After that, it's up to the family if anything else is brought against you."

"Do . . ." she swallowed then took a deep breath, "do you know who I hit?"

"No," the officer shook his head. "Inspector Detector does, though. He'll be here shortly to talk to you. You can ask him then."

"Okay," Trixie whispered, going back to the bench to sit and wait. She had a very bad feeling about this and she wanted nothing more than to just wretch at that moment.

'Speed's going to be so disappointed in me,' she thought to herself as tears trailed down her cheeks. 'I just know it.'

* * *

His chest ached. Something had shoved itself up his nose while another thing had snaked its way down his throat. Speed let out a groan as his eyes started to flutter open. He half-expected to see Trixie standing over him, tears streaming down her cheeks. The fact that he'd been in an accident was not lost on him.

However, when his eyes opened as far as they would go, he could barely make out any shapes. His vision had blurred greatly.

'What's going on? What's happened to me? Why can't I see?'

A cool hand touched his cheek, calming him instantly. He knew that touch. Off to his right, he heard the sound of sobbing. Grateful sobbing.

'Mother . . .'

"I'm so glad to see you open your eyes, baby," she whispered. "So very glad. Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay. I'll take care of you. I promise you."

Someone entered the room at that moment. Who, he couldn't quite identify.

"He's awake, doctor . . ."

"I see. I'll have the nurse come in to check on him. Mrs. Racer, we need to talk. I have some news for you and your family . . ."

"I'm coming, doctor," she managed to croak out. "I'll be right out."

"I'll be in the waiting room with your husband."

"I'll be right back, baby. I'll be right back. I promise."

She moved away from him, leaving him alone in a room filled with shadows.


	2. The Truth is a Bitter Pill to Swallow

Trixie drew a deep breath in an effort to relax. It had only been a few minutes since the guard had told her that Inspector Detector would be coming to talk to her but, to her, it felt like hours. The only thing she could really think about was the pedestrian she'd struck with her car and how his family had to be coping with such a tragedy. A torrent of emotions had washed over her since the guard had told her the news, everything from anger to self-loathing. Anger at first for Speed for not attending the party with her then anger at herself for being angry with Speed for turning her down. He wasn't her guardian. She knew that and she knew better than to get behind the wheel intoxicated. It wasn't Speed's fault she had driven drunk. It was hers. Then there were the legal ramifications for her actions and the potential jail time alone. The poor soul's family would have every right to sue her for his medical bills alone. If he died . . . well, Speed would have some very harsh words for her when everything was said and done.

'But why isn't Speed here?' she wondered. 'He should have heard the news by now. He wouldn't leave me here . . . would he?'

At that moment, she didn't know. She'd been awfully harsh in her words to him last night and for not going to a party no less. He didn't like to break away from plans, especially ones that he'd been working on for a month or more. She knew that. Whatever his plans had been, they were important to him and she couldn't fault him for not wanting to go. Still, his plans for last night escaped her.

'It had to be something important,' she mused. 'Like a birthday or something else important. Otherwise . . .'

Trixie felt the blood leaving her cheeks as her thoughts took a radical turn and the realization set in. Something important. He'd made plans to go out and have dinner with his mother, something he had promised that he would do. It had become something very important for the two of them, after Rex had walked away from his family a second time. Speed had given his word and Speed wasn't one to go back on his word. She knew that as well, and she felt her stomach flopping around on itself again. She wanted to vomit where she sat. Whether it was from her hangover or her realization, she could not be sure.

"Oh god," she moaned, burying her face in her hands. "No wonder he hasn't come here to check on me. He's probably mad at me for forgetting about his plans."

"Are you talking about Speed?" came the light inquiry. Trixie's head shot up to see Inspector Detector standing at front of the holding cell, a very somber expression his face. Hesitantly, she nodded.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I am. I screwed up big time last night. A bit of an understatement, I know, but . . ."

"There isn't any other way to describe it?" he finished for her as the door slid open with a loud "clang." Again, Trixie nodded.

"Exactly . . ."

The tall police officer strode over towards her, sitting next to her when he reached his destination. He crossed his legs then folded his hands over his lap. For a moment, neither of them said anything, though Trixie couldn't stand the silence. She felt like she'd just been read her death sentence, and she didn't even know why. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she waited for what she felt to be her impending doom. Finally, Inspector Detector drew a deep breath, breaking the silence.

"What happened last night, Trixie? Why were you driving when you shouldn't have been?"

"I went to a party . . ." she drew a deep breath then let it out raggedly. "I'd wanted Speed to go with me . . . there were supposed to be some major sponsors there and I'd wanted to cheer him up. He'd been so depressed lately, after . . . after Rex left again. I just hate to see him so sad, you know?"

"And Speed didn't go?"

"No," she shook her head. "He said that he couldn't, that he had made plans for last night."

"Did he say what those plans were?"

"He didn't have to . . . I already knew but I'd forgotten. I got a little upset but he still refused to change his plans. So I hung up on him before he could say anything more. Then Janine and I finished getting ready and we were on our way . . . Inspector . . ."

"Yes, Trixie?"

"Where's Janine?" she asked quietly. It was not the question she truly wanted to ask, but it was a safer question. The last thing she wanted was for her best friend to be injured for her carelessness, and the guard never said if she'd been in the car alone or if someone else had been with her. It was his turn to draw a deep breath.

"She called Sparky from the party. Apparently some gentleman got a little fresh with her and tried to take advantage of her in her inebriation."

"Is she okay?" Trixie's eyes widened, and she turned her head to the police officer, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Inspector Detector gave her a reassuring nod.

"Yes," he replied. "The man's been arrested and he won't be bothering anyone else for some time."

"Good," she breathed. "I'm glad she's all right . . ."

Silence fell over them once more. There was more to be talked about . . . there were some questions Trixie needed answers to, questions sticking in her throat like taffy. She was just too afraid to ask them. Finally, after minutes of working up her courage, she spoke once more.

"Inspector Detector . . . the pedestrian that I hit last night . . . how's he doing? Do you know?"

"Not good," he sighed. "He's still in intensive care in the hospital. I received a phone call from his father not that long ago. He's regained consciousness, but he isn't out of danger yet. Not by a long shot. His injuries are very severe."

"Who . . ." She swallowed hard, the question lodging itself in her throat. She knew that if she had a name, it would just add to the guilt that she already felt. It was imperative, though. She knew she didn't have to ask the man but she wanted to. She had to know, and she'd rather hear from him than have someone else walk up to her and tell. It was best just to ask now. That way she could figure out how to make reparations for her crime. "Who did I hit last night? The guard said that you know . . ."

"I know," he nodded solemnly. "I wish I didn't but I know . . ."

Something about the way he trailed off immediately set Trixie on edge. Whoever it was had to be a good friend of the inspector's. Otherwise, he wouldn't have hesitated. She was sure of it.

"Who?" she croaked out. "Who did I hit?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. For a moment, he said nothing. It was like he was debating with himself as to whether or not he should say. Then he nodded, as if coming to a decision. Inspector Detector then drew another deep breath and let it out. Trixie's feeling of impending doom thickened, choking her and suffocating her for a reason she did not yet know. Then he said a name she never expected to hear.

"It was Speed."

* * *

Rachel Racer listened quietly as the district attorney discussed "legal" options she and her family could take against one Trixie Vanderbucks for the injuries caused to her son. She listened . . . but none of the words seemed to register. All she could think of was the boy who lay in a hospital not more than five rooms away, a young man still fighting for his life. Her mind refused to grasp onto the fact that it had been her son's girlfriend who had put him there. She couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. Not Trixie. Not her.

'How could this happen? Why did it happen?'

Nothing made sense to the Racer matriarch anymore. Her son had always been very adamant that no one on the Go Team drink or drive. He'd often volunteered to be the designated driver at parties so no one would get hurt. It didn't make any sense to her because she knew that Trixie knew that about Speed.

'So why was Trixie behind the wheel of that car?' she wondered. 'Why did Speed have to drop his keys at that moment?'

The event would forever be burned into her memory. She'd been right there, smiling at her son as he crossed the street. He was going to get the car . . . so she wouldn't have to walk that far. His treat. He'd been fishing the keys out of his pocket and they'd hit the ground. Then, in slow motion, he bent down to pick them up just as the car came screeching out of nowhere. His body flew down the street, blood leaving a trail to where he finally landed some fifty feet from where he dropped his keys. For a moment, she was there again, in front of the restaurant and screaming, even though she knew she heard the sickening crunch of her son's head hitting the curb . . .

"Mrs. Racer?"

"Honey?"

Her husband's voice and the voice of the district attorney brought her back to reality. They were gazing at her, their expressions concerned.

She wanted to offer them a wan smile. She wanted to tell them that she'd be all right . . . but the smile would have been fake, her words a lie, and she knew it.

"I can't do this," she murmured. "I need to go back . . . my son needs me."

The district attorney nodded, his expression going from concerned to sympathetic.

"Very well, Mrs. Racer. We can discuss this at a later time, if you'd like."

"Thank you," Rachel stated, rising to her feet. Without another word, she was out the door and heading back to Speed's room.

* * *

"Is this even necessary?" Pops inquired after his wife left the room. "I'm sure Trixie's beating herself up over this."

"It's a mere formality," the man stated, retrieving his papers and briefcase. "You don't even have to press additional charges against Ms Vanderbucks if you don't want to. The state will take care of everything."

"What if we don't want charges pressed against her?"

The attorney paused for a moment, his lips drawn tight. Then he continued.

"It would take a lot of convincing, Mr. Racer, and a lot of pressure on your family's part. The state of Michigan automatically presses charges in drunk driving cases. There are penalties involved and she does need to learn that there are severe consequences for her actions." Once he had everything in order, he looked Pops straight in the eye. "However, if you and your family do not wish to press the charges, I'll see what I can do about getting them dropped. I'll have to fight you on it . . . but I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Pops murmured. He, too, quickly exited the room and followed his wife to Speed's room. He had no idea of what Rachel had to be going through at that moment, having witnessed the accident. He also had no idea of how Trixie was taking the news, if she'd been told at all. He just knew that his son was hurting and needed more medical care. The doctors had told him as much.

 _"All of his ribs have been fractured, if not broken completely,"_ the doctor had told them. _"There's also some internal bleeding, and a great deal of swelling on the right portion of his brain and multiple facial injuries . . ."_

The news had steadily gotten worse after that. Several of Speed's lower vertebrae had been severed in addition to his spinal cord, paralyzing him. His chances for ever walking again were slim. Both of his kneecaps had been shattered, one of his lungs had collapsed, and his right hip bone had been broken. In addition to the swelling, the doctor had informed them that Speed had suffered some brain damage. How much, though, they couldn't determine. Not until they could get the swelling to go down. Things were not looking so good for his son.

'He'll pull through,' Pops assured himself. 'He's a strong boy. Always has been. Always will be. He's got to pull through. I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't . . .'

* * *

He was driving. His foot pressed the accelerator all the way to the floor and the engine hummed as his car reached its maximum speed. Anger filled him but he couldn't explain why. It just had.

Rex Racer, formerly known to the world as Racer X, stared straight ahead, trying his best to vent his anger. He'd just heard the news about Speed.

'Critical condition . . . he's in the hospital, in critical condition . . .'

The story behind why his brother had landed in the hospital had become muddled in his mind. All he could say for certain was that there'd been some drinking and driving involved. What Speed had been doing was lost on him. He just knew his brother's condition . . . and his need to vent the anger that had come with the news.

He drove on, heedless of where his car was taking him.


	3. Homecomings

Trixie shook violently as the realizations washed over her. She'd been driving. Drunk. And she hit someone. But not just any someone. She'd hit Speed. Her boyfriend. The one man, other than her father and brothers, that meant the most to her in the entire world.

What his true condition was, she didn't know. Inspector Detector hadn't exactly come out and told her, only that it was very severe and he was in the intensive care unit. To her, that meant too many horrible possibilities for her to imagine. To know that he was in the hospital and that it was serious sent another wave of nausea coursing through her. Her hangover added to the effect still she fought herself to keep from vomiting. The last thing she needed to do was throw herself a pity party. It was her own fault she sat in a jail cell anyway, just as it was her fault her boyfriend was in the hospital. She knew if he could speak to her, Speed would tell her she needed to take responsibility for her actions, that he couldn't save her this time.

'How am I going to be able to look at him again and pretend I haven't hurt him?' she thought, tears welling up in her eyes. 'How will . . . how will I be able to look him in the eyes? How will I be able to face his parents? I . . . I don't know . . .'

A small hiccup escaped her as sobs, great and terrible, threatened to overwhelm her. She still sat in the detox cell at the county jail. One of the officers had told her that her father was on his way to bail her out but he hadn't come yet. Of course, it had only been five minutes, roughly, since the officer had told her and it took at least fifteen to get from her father's home to the station. At least, in the Mach 5 it took fifteen minutes. She knew as much because she'd timed Speed once.

'He told Inspector Detector that he would . . . and I said it couldn't be done . . . silly me . . .'

A stray tear rolled down her cheek as each thought of Speed entered her mind, increasing the ache in her chest and her sorrow. She wanted to go see him once she got out of the detox room, but she wasn't sure if she'd be welcome at the hospital. As much as Mom and Pops Racer adored her, this, in her opinion, was simply unforgivable.

'And even if they did forgive me, I could never forgive myself. God, how could I be so stupid?'

"Please God," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around her belly. Unconsciously, she began to rock back and forth. "Please . . . let him be all right . . . please let him live . . . he didn't deserve what happened last night. He didn't. Whatever punishment you have in store for me for this, I'll take. I shouldn't have been out at that party . . . I shouldn't have been behind the wheel of that car . . . why? Why did this have to happen?"

Trixie knew the answers to her questions. She'd been stubborn and willful, wanting her way when it wasn't possible. She wanted to be seen on the arm of one of the best-looking young men in the world, and she'd been angry with him when he turned her invitation to party down. At the party, she started drinking, trying to forget about him, if only for a moment. She knew these reasons oh so very well, just as she knew that she'd have to live with the consequences . . . such as the guilt for injuring her boyfriend. And the shame. The shame of not only hurting him but tarnishing the name of the Mach 5 team. They had always boasted about never driving drunk, and she had wrecked that.

'It's true what they say . . . you're lucky if it's a cop that stops you when you're driving drunk . . .'

"Millicent?"

At the sound of her father's voice, Trixie glanced up . . . and their eyes met.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They didn't need to speak. There was concern and understanding in her father's eyes. No reprimands . . . as if he could see the torture that she was putting herself through. Then he held out his arms to her and she found herself clinging to him, tears falling freely down her cheeks as she did so.

"Oh, Daddy," she sobbed, her petite form trembling. "It's my fault. It's all my fault."

"Shhhh," he murmured. "It's going to be all right . . ."

"How? How is it going to be all right?" Trixie nearly wailed, hugging her father tight. "I hit my boyfriend last night! And I don't know how he's doing!"

"I realize this, darling," came the gentle reply. "I realize it very well. However, you can't keep beating yourself up over this. It isn't going to do you, or Speed, any good."

"But . . ."

"No buts," her father interjected firmly. "Now I realize that you're feeling very guilty over this. You've made a mistake and now you're paying for it in the worst way possible. My question is, what are you going to do about what's been done?"

* * *

Cool hands brushed against his fevered skin. At least, he felt fevered. Given the amount of pain he was in, despite the painkillers (which never lasted long, it seemed), he was surprised he could even feel those cool hands brushing the hair away from his face. He had to admit, though, it felt nice to feel that coolness against his skin. Somehow, it eased the pain.

"Hey, baby . . ."

His mother's voice. She sounded so tired, as if she hadn't slept in over a day or so. Why hadn't she slept? He couldn't recall. He just knew that he wanted to tell her to get some sleep, that he'd be all right but it would have been a lie. He knew that and she knew that.

'What happened anyway? Why do I ache like this? Why is it so hard to see my mother's face when I open my eyes?'

Someone had said what had happened to him, why he had a breathing machine hooked to his face. There were other things poking him as well for whatever had happened but he couldn't really recall. Not that it would have mattered any at that moment. Sleep called to him and he felt too weak to protest.

'I'll just close my eyes for a few minutes . . . that's all . . .'

Slowly, his eyelids drooped shut and sweet darkness claimed him.

* * *

"Mr. and Mrs. Racer, please have a seat. We have some news on your son's condition."

As soon as the doctor entered the room and called for them, a war of emotions raged within Rachel Racer. Among those emotions were hope and fear. She hoped her son still lived. She feared the doctor would tell her he had died, that they had done everything they could to save him, but it just wasn't enough. She prayed for the best, yet she schooled herself for the worst. With Speed's injuries, it was the most she could do.

Two hours before, she'd been holding her son's hand and talking quietly to him. Richard sat on the opposite side of her, also holding their boy's hand. He, however, did not speak, but she knew of the war of emotions raging within him. Of the two of them, losing Rex had hit Richard the hardest. The two, before that awful fight nearly fourteen years earlier, had always been close, closer than what Richard had ever been with Speed. He tried to make up for it once Rex had left, but there were no doubts in anyone's minds, including Speed's, that Richard truly missed Rex. Perhaps it was why Speed had always sought to be the good son, always obeying their orders with no complaints, and obtaining good grades during high school. He even remained in their home after graduation, helping around the house and assisting Richard in his goal to open his own car manufacturing company. At least with Rex, they knew he still lived. That much had become apparent to Rachel the moment Racer X started interacting with Speed.

Richard, however, had not connected the dots where Rex and Racer X were concerned and to see their normally vibrant and energetic son laying so deathly still tore the Racer patriarch apart. To Rachel, in gazing at her husband while they kept a vigil over their son, the knowledge was there that they could lose another child, this time permanently. There would be no coming home for Speed, and her husband blamed himself for their son's condition, even though they both knew that it was a ridiculous notion. Speed had not been on the racetrack. Richard had been visiting with his brother Henry and enjoying some of their mother's recipes at the time.

She wanted to tell her husband he was not to blame for Speed's condition. Indeed, she started to say something when Speed's eyes closed, and the monitors started to scream. The nurses and doctors were rushing in and pushing them out of the room.

That had been two hours ago, two agonizing hours of no news. With every passing second, Rachel's fears grew and her hopes dimmed. Her son's injuries were severe. Though he pulled through the first seventy-two hours with very little incident, complications could still set in and one apparently had. Now the doctor wanted to talk to them about their son's condition. She clutched her husband's hand for support. He gripped hers with an equal fervor.

"It's good, and it's bad," the doctor said, before either of them could ask. He let out an exhausted sigh and sat across from them. "He still alive, but it isn't looking good."

"What's going on with him?"

* * *

His feet led him inside. He didn't stop. Maybe he did stop once, if only to find out Speed's location from one of the orderlies or a nurse. Otherwise, he kept on walking and didn't stop. Not until he'd reached his younger brother's room.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Maybe to see Speed sitting up in bed and berating himself for being stupid and foolish enough to get behind the wheel after drinking. That would be like his brother, after all. What he saw instead made him want to retch.

Speed lay in the hospital bed but he wasn't conscious. Rex didn't think he had been for a while, especially since bandages had been wrapped around the younger man's head and covered his left eye. A breathing tube had been inserted into his mouth and down his throat, an indication to Rex's muddled brain that his brother wasn't breathing on his own.

"His lungs collapsed yesterday morning, and he's going to need a liver transplant," a teary woman's voice stated. "The doctors say that, if he pulls out of this, he won't be the same as he was before . . . that his speech and motor skills will be affected . . . but he needs that transplant before they can do much else for him."

Rex turned around to face his mother as she drew a deep and ragged breath, the sadness and worry reflecting in her eyes. She hadn't slept any lately. He could tell by the dark circles surrounding her eyes. He always knew when his mother hardly slept for days. This was one of those times.

"Mrs. Racer," he forced himself to say, the words sounding alien to him at that moment, "I'm sure . . ."

"If you're going to say that Speed will be fine, that he's a fighter, please don't. I know he's a fighter, and he'll do his best to pull through. It's what's kept me going these last few days. However, those are bullshit lines, ones we tell each other to make ourselves feel better, and you know it," she told him, her tone firm. "And don't call me Mrs. Racer anymore. I'm your mother, Rex."

He felt his jaw drop, his eyes going wide. How had she known? Had Speed told their parents the truth? And when did she start to use such salty language? He attributed that more with Pops than with her. A wan smile touched his mother's lips as she moved to the bedside.

"I've known for a while that it was you," she stated, her tone soft. "Especially since that lunatic kidnapped Speed and had him steal all those paintings."

"I don't . . ."

"You slipped," she replied. "You said Pops."

For a moment, he could only stand there, his mouth hanging open as his mind vainly tried to conjure up the time that she spoke of. When he finally did, he felt his cheeks burn and he slowly removed his mask.

"And here I thought Speed would have told you once he found out who I was," he murmured, sitting on the opposite side.

"He did," his mother confirmed. "You don't realize how that felt, when he told us who you really were. We felt as if we'd lost you all over again."

She fell silent at that and her eyes wandered back to his brother's prone form. The only things breaking the silence were the respirator and the heart monitor. There were so many things that he had wanted to say, however, so many things that he wanted to ask. Rex found that he couldn't, though. The surreal feeling of the situation made it hard for him to focus. One thing remained clear to him and that was he would donate part of his liver to his brother. There were no doubts in his mind that they were a genetic match for each other. Hell, if his brother needed blood, he'd donate that, too. Finally, he decided to ask the one thing that had been bothering him the most.

"What happened to him?"


End file.
